Part 12 (1/2)

She embraced him tenderly; there was never any ceremony with her beloved son as there was with the others.

'Mother,' he said, the crafty Medici look creeping into his eyes. 'I am to leave my apartment by the window, go into a waiting coach and be driven off to see the fine cloths and jewels of the d.u.c.h.ess of Guise.'

'What is this, my darling?'

'That is what they plan for me.'

'Who, my dearest? What do you mean?'

'Henry told me about it. His father was there, and so was Monsieur de Nemours. They asked what my religion was Papist or Huguenot and I told them my religion was the same as yours. They said I should pay them a visit, and we should go through the window and a coach would be waiting to take us to Lorraine. I thought that was a strange way for a Prince to travel.'

Catherine embraced him fiercely. 'Oh, my darling. My wise and clever boy. How right you were to come straight to your mother!'

From then on she could not bear him to go out of her sight. They had terrified her. They had thought to kidnap her dearest boy. What dangerous men these were! And what a perilous position she had put herself in by siding openly with the Bourbons!

When, a few days later, she found herself face to face with Francis of Guise, she realised afresh the strength of this man. He was angry with her because his plot to kidnap the Prince had failed; he distrusted her, seeing her as a different person from the meek woman he had suspected her to be.

He was blunt; the eye above the scar watered freely; the strong, cruel mouth was hard and firm.

'Madame,' he said, 'I and mine have allowed you to become the Regent of France that you might defend the faith. If this is not your intention, then there are others Princes of the Blood Royal, men of wisdom who are more fitted to take over the responsibility which is now yours.'

With an impetuosity which was foreign to her, she said: 'Would you, Monsieur de Guise, remain true to me if I and my son changed our faith?'

The Duke answered with frankness: 'No, Madame. I should not.'

'Then you are lacking in loyalty to the Crown, Monsieur.'

'As long as you and the Crown keep to the faith of your forefathers and mine, I will give my life in your cause.'

She did not doubt for a moment that he spoke the truth. She saw the fanatical gleam in his eyes, and during the last few years she had become familiar with that fanaticism. So the mighty Duke, the great disciplinarian, the soldier of France, was as fanatically religious as those men whom she had seen tortured for their religion or burned at the stake.

It was a startling discovery, but it was not an unpleasant one. She considered these fanatics, these people who served a cause. They were weak compared with such as herself whose cause was expediency, who had no religion but that of keeping power. She could change her course so easily, using the winds of fortune; they must plough on, whether the wind was with them or against them.

She could see more clearly the way she must take with this man. She feared him. He was the head of the great Catholic Party, and he had a strength and a power which was lacking in the Bourbons. She had been foolish to show too much favour to Antoine of Navarre and Louis of Bourbon, the Prince of Conde, to Coligny and his brothers.

She said softly: 'Monsieur de Guise, rest a.s.sured that there is only one faith for me, and that is the faith of your forefathers and mine. How could it be otherwise? Why should I change with these ... fanatics?'

The Duke spoke coldly: 'It would seem, Madame, that this is what you have done. I hear that you even allow preches to be conducted in the palace. You surround yourself with heretics. It was therefore thought advisable to remove the little Prince Henry from such evil influences.'

'Ah, Monsieur le Duc, how you misunderstand me! I am a good Catholic. It grieves me to see this land rent in twain by such disturbances, and all in the name of G.o.d. I thought to show leniency to these people. I thought to lead them back to truth by gentleness.'

'They do not understand gentleness, Madame. They grow arrogant under your protection. It was not for this that we allowed you to be Regent of France.'

She came close to him and laid a hand on his arm; she lifted her eyes to his and smiled craftily.

'My object, my lord Duke, was to reform these Princes of Bourbon, to lead them back to the Catholic Faith.'

He was scornful, and he terrified her because he did not attempt to hide his scorn. He was then still very sure of the power his family wielded.

'Is that then the meaning of this great friends.h.i.+p you show for them, Madame? Is that why you are seen so often with the King of Navarre ... and even more often with his brother?'

Catherine felt a surge of anger as she realised the significance of his remarks regarding herself and Conde. But the anger was for herself as much as for Francis of Guise. She had been foolish to let this romantic feeling for Conde get the better of her common sense.

But when she spoke her voice was quiet and controlled. 'You smile, Monsieur, but that is because you have not heard my plan. I have a very good plan which I firmly believe will make these two princelings forget the more serious matters of wars and religion.'

'How so, Madame?'

'Think of the King of Navarre!' She made a disgusted noise with her lips. 'Antoine of Navarre, the little popinjay, the vainest man in France! Why is he such a good Huguenot, do you think? It is on account of Madame Jeanne, that wife of his.'

'He was a Huguenot before she was.'

'He could never stay of the same opinion for more than a day or two at a time. The turncoat! That is the man we have to deal with ... or it would be, but for his wife.' Catherine let out her spurt of coa.r.s.e laughter. 'Madame Jeanne d'Albret, Queen of Navarre! She has been a Huguenot in secret for years. Oh yes, I know she has just made a public avowal of the fact, but for years she has followed the faith in secret. As for Antoine, he is a Huguenot because his wife says he must be. He is in leading strings. If we would bend Antoine to our will, we must strike at him through his wife.'

'What plan have you for attacking the Queen of Navarre?'

'Oh, I do not mean that we should take an army and march south. That is not my way, Monsieur. That would avail us little. We should have civil war in France, with the Huguenots fighting to free their heroine. No, we strike through Antoine, but we strike at his wife. Did you see them at the wedding of Francis and Mary? Do you remember the silver galleons and how Antoine selected his wife for his companion? ”What a devoted husband!” said everyone. My plan, Monsieur, is to make Antoine a slightly less devoted husband.'

'You think that possible? Jeanne is as strong as granite.'

'And Antoine is as weak as water. That is why we strike through him. Great plans are in my head; I am a poor, weak woman who loathes violence. My plans are quiet plans, but I think they will work as efficiently as your ma.s.sacres. We will separate Antoine from his wife. It is, after all, unnatural for the man to be such a devoted husband. He was born a philanderer. We will put temptation in his way. We will so anger that saintly wife of his that she will be infuriated with him. The adored wife, the publicly chosen of her husband, will be neglected, forced to see her husband with a mistress whom he adores. And then, where will the leader of the Huguenots be? You know these Huguenots, Monsieur. They are more prim than we Catholics. They do not love adulterers. His mistress will lead him as his wife now leads him; I plan that she shall lead him back to the Catholic Faith.'

Francis of Guise was excited. It was a good plan, and it was not an impossible plan. If the Queen Mother had had this in mind right from the first, he had misjudged her. She was as good a Catholic as he was. She was as much his ally as she had been when Francis was alive.

He looked at her and, smiling maliciously, said: 'And the Prince of Conde?'

She repeated slowly: 'The Prince of Conde.' And she could not help it if her mind went back to those visits to his cell, those conversations that had held in them a hint of tenderness. She shook off such thoughts and looked unflinchingly into the face of Le Balafre. Then she said: 'I had the same sort of plan for Conde as for his brother. He also, as you know, has a strong and saintly wife, a woman whom I suspect of leading her husband.'

'And for him also, Madame, you would suggest a mistress, a love that will lead him back to the Catholic Faith?'

'That is what I suggest.'

'You think it possible in his case?'

'Monsieur, I do think it possible.'

'And' the Duke's eyes openly mocked her now 'and which lady would you suggest for the seduction of the Prince of Conde?'

She was ready for him. 'There is one in my Escadron Volant. I do not know whether you have noticed her: Isabelle de Limeuil. She is a very beautiful woman and, I believe, irresistible to most.'

'And so, you have selected her as Conde's temptress?'

'I have, Monsieur.'

'And for Antoine?'

'Mademoiselle du Rouet.'

The Duke nodded. 'You have chosen two very beautiful women, Madame, and very light ones.'

'Those are the qualifications necessary for this particular task, great beauty and lightness. One would not choose such as the Princess Eleonore and Queen Jeanne of Navarre for such tasks, I do a.s.sure you.'